


44 Things That Go Through Mitsuhide's Head Each Time He Kills Nobunaga

by thekingofpucas



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Character Study, Drugs, Gen, Historical References, Implied Sexual Content, Mental Health Issues, Other, headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 15:18:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7392808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekingofpucas/pseuds/thekingofpucas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The title is fairly self-explanatory. A collection of thoughts, (head)canon facts, perceptions, etc that Mitsuhide has that are related to Nobunaga (and specifically Honnou-ji type events). </p>
<p>"Before he lost them, Kichou thanked him, clasped his hand in hers. Not for me, she had told him. She was pushing Ranmaru, barely awake, hand on his collar, knuckles so tight they were white. We need to escape, she told him. Mama, Ranmaru said, tiny head lolling against her leg. He has no father, Kichou said. He wasn’t the one who killed them. That, at least, he can accept."</p>
            </blockquote>





	44 Things That Go Through Mitsuhide's Head Each Time He Kills Nobunaga

**Author's Note:**

> This piece deals with drugs, violence, blood, death, abuse, etc, and mentions sex, misogyny, and family dynamics. Proceed cautiously if these are sensitive topics for you.
> 
> You can also find it [here](https://sites.google.com/site/courtofpucas/fanfiction/44-things)

I.  
“There is an ocean in the sky.” There is an ocean in the heavens. He wanted to see it. If not with Nobunaga-kou, with whom will he go there? Oh. Without Nobunaga-kou, he will not go there. 

II.  
“The enemy is at Honnouji.” Whose enemy? His? The world’s? The Oda’s? Nobunaga-kou’s? He says it over and over. He doesn’t have to answer.

III.  
Green. Green everywhere. His aura used to be different. What color was it? Before the incense, before the killing fields? The sickly sweet scent makes him nauseous. How many faces doesn’t he remember, lost in the cloud of that saccharine drug? He doesn’t want to know.

IV.  
This is what vengeance feels like. Not his. Hers. Kichou’s. O’Ichi’s. Why did he watch as they lost their husbands? Why didn’t he stop it? Why didn’t he say “no” when Kazusa-no-suke crawled into his bed? Why didn’t he say “no” when Azai Nagamasa was falling in love? He says “no,” now, but it sounds more like “the enemy is at Honnouji”. 

V.  
Toyotomi Hideyoshi will kill him after this. It is a fact. There is no “three day’s glory” for him. He doesn’t mind. Betrayal begets betrayal. He wants the cycle to be complete. He wants to die for what he’s doing.

VI.  
Toyotomi Hideyoshi will not kill him after this. This is also a fact. He is already Tenkai, he is already dead. He doesn’t know where he will go. He wonders if he will go back to Kingo. He doesn’t think so.

VII.  
“Do not let me become evil.” Nobunaga-kou said this once. Back then, a lifetime ago. He agreed, then. Why didn’t he refuse? When Nobunaga-kou smiled at him sadly, cleaning up the mess of broken pottery, he agreed. When Nobunaga-kou held him, he didn’t know why it felt sad. His body knew, then.

VIII.  
The fire is necessary. This is hell. This is the sixth hell, the sixth heaven. This is his duty as a monk. Why burn the body himself, they ask, often, when he sets everything ablaze. Nobunaga’s bones belong to no other. He cannot gather them, but he can do this.

IX.  
He is no longer human. The time for that is past. Each breath he breathed took in less and less humanity, expelled it from his lungs. Each breath of incense. Each breath of his lord. He’s different now. He’s violent. Alone. He can’t be human. Then, he would feel fulfilled.

X.  
He can’t let Nobunaga-kou go. Each time he takes something with. A piece of him, sometimes literally. The Toyotomi find him dragging a headpiece along, only half-awake. There is no drug more bitter than this. He doesn’t want the incense back, but he takes it. He hides it from Kingo. It’s a familiar pain. It hurts, but he knows it already.

XI.  
He doesn’t want the hermit to touch him. He lives only because Nobunaga-kou willed it, and it was a mistake. Don’t touch don’t touch don’t touch don’t touch don’t touch

XII.  
He likes it when it hurts. He has to say this, he has to feel this way. If Nobunaga-kou screams at him for flattery, if Nobunaga-kou strikes him before the troops, what ecstasy! The first time, when he threw the dining set, everything was pain. Now, what bliss!

XIII.  
Strong men captivate him. He likes control, he likes the sound that power makes when it dies. Nobunaga-kou can bind him and muzzle him if he likes. If it arouses him, if it makes his eyes roll back with pleasure, then he is still the one in control. If he can kill the Tiger of Kai, if he can survive Toyotomi Hideyoshi, if he can manipulate Kingo-san, if he can

XIV.  
He didn’t want Kichou to die. He didn’t want Ranmaru to die. He didn’t want Katsuie to leave. He didn’t want O’Ichi to lose her husband. He didn’t want Nobunaga-kou to take him in his arms and he didn’t want to kill him. It never matters what he wants.

XV.  
The time period varies. Sometimes he takes him at Honnouji before the Toyotomi even exist. Sometimes he is already Tenkai. Sometimes it is at the altar. Sometimes it is under a blood moon. Sometimes Katsuie tries to warn him when he smiles and walks past, sometimes he leaves a letter for Kingo, sometimes he isn’t the one to do it. But usually he is.

XVI.  
They will die together. He is only going to talk, he says to himself. He will only make him see sense. “Do not let me become evil.” Okay, he says, alright. I will stop you. Every time, Nobunaga-kou is there, and he does not listen. What have I done? he thinks to himself. I cannot stay, without you. 

XVII.  
They will die apart. He is going to kill him, he says to himself. He will take care of this once and for all. “Do not let me become evil.” Too late, he says, lost cause. I will destroy you. Every time, Kingo is there, and he does not know. What have I done? he thinks to himself. I cannot stay, with you.

XVIII.  
Where will this Nobunaga-kou go? Is it the same place that the Nobunaga-kou that he loved has gone? For the man he loves, for his sake, he hopes not. Deep down, he also hopes for that bitter hope that they will meet again. The flames cannot swallow this Nobunaga-kou, he thinks. Why? Why couldn’t they have taken this one, left the other. Sometimes, he wonders if the bleached bones will get up and talk, say the things that the other man used to.

XIX.  
Kichou used to love that man. O’Ichi used to love that man. Ranmaru is too young to remember, Katsuie is too young to care. Only he remembers everything, from the very start. Kichou remembers the good. O’Ichi remembers only until she was discarded like a broken doll. He remembers both the good and the bad, the very first time that Nobunaga-kou struck Kichou, the very first time that Nobunaga-kou took him aside and told him something that was “men’s talk”, separated the war from the home. It was never truly successful. Kichou kept her pistol on her thigh. He always wondered if she needed it, after the door slid shut.

XX.  
Nobunaga-kou used to send him to kill holy men. He was raised by monks, and the deaths leave a bitter taste in his mouth. Bittersweet, since he takes the incense, can’t do it without the drugs. He’s gotten used to killing soldiers, but he can’t do this. “I cannot gather the bones,” he tells the Buddhist, thinks that he sounds condescending, thinks also that if he stops laughing he will cry and scream. “I cannot bury you,” he tells the Catholic, watching the stained glass melt. The Western altar, too, is made of wood.

XXI.  
He has met the current Magoichi. She was Sayaka, then, someone tells him, but he doesn’t remember. “Kill me,” he remembers begging someone, laughing, full of green. “We killed him,” he remembers saying. “He was your mentor.” The woman lowers her gun. “Weak,” he calls her, and she says, “No. You are.”

XXII.  
Death is a sickle, death is a scythe. After he tastes the incense for the first time, he is death. From then on, he never finds any creation of his own. When Kingo offers him hotpot, the banner he sees is sickles on red. He sees a harvest, he sees full, flushed cheeks. Life can be a sickle. Can life be a scythe?

XXIII.  
The incense has given him a permanent tremor in his left hand. Nobunaga-kou mocks him once, when he drops a scythe. He also mocks him when he clasps that hand in his and feels it tremble. “Clumsy,” he says, “Careless.” He thinks that, maybe, drugging a person and breaking them is more clumsy, more careless. 

XXIV.  
He has always seen things that do not exist. He calls them ghosts, calls them spirits, smells flowers that he has never seen and hears his name called on every voiceless wind. How much is real and how much has his own mind cursed him with? O’Ichi’s ghosts are to be pitied. Poor girl, she lives alone in her own world. His are to be feared. Violent killer, he turns his back even on the truth. 

XXV.  
What are mistakes? A man kills his beloved, and an old friend speaks to him, tries to gain back what they have lost. A young lord leads countless soldiers to their deaths, and they come to him in his time of need, protect his injured body as their homeland. A boy charges into battle out of fear, and the man he stands against becomes his teacher, leads him into his new era. A man breathes in drugs and becomes a monster, and nobody comes to his aide. A man obeys his lord and strikes him down to eradicate his evil, and nobody stands at his side. A man will give his life for a chance to go back and start over, but he dies for nothing instead. 

XXVI.  
Laughing and crying are the same. Before, back when he was human, he laughed differently than he cried. Now, one leads into the other, sooner or later. Laughter to tears, tears to laughter. He laughs when he is sad, he laughs when he is scared, he laughs when he is in pain. If he laughs, then the screaming doesn’t sound so bad. He’s laughing, he’s crying, he’s not sure what he’s doing. He no longer has names for emotions; they all blur together. Help, he says, with laughter. 

XXVII.  
Once, when Toyotomi Hideyoshi came, the flames swallowed him up. The black was beautiful. He thought he saw a crow. Or maybe it was a vulture.

XXVIII.  
He used to see something in Nobunaga-kou’s eyes. Maybe it was the sea. 

XXIX.  
Kichou thinks that he is cruel. “Traitor,” she says. She says, “You are disloyal.” He does not tell her about her husband’s request, though the memory is one of the only he hasn’t yet lost. We used to be friends, he says, but he doesn’t say it. He doesn’t trust his voice. Liar, he says, but only to himself.

XXX.  
What place is there for people like us? O’Ichi says it to him, once. “What place is there for people like us?” she wails, lamenting. For some reason, he is the only one who hears it. She doesn’t even notice that he’s listening. What place, indeed, he thinks. What place is there for we who speak with spirits? She wants flowers. He wants his old colors back. Was it purple? Was it black? He doesn’t remember. She pulls the petals off of her treasures, asking if she is forsaken. He embraces green, makes himself dangerous. They do not say it, but neither of them think there is any place left for them.

XXXI.  
He thinks that blood is beautiful. He likes the color red, so vibrant, so lively. Nobunaga-kou’s eyes, he tells himself. Nobunaga-kou’s cloak, he says. Nobunaga-kou’s neck, below his lifeless face. Not Azai Nagamasa’s aura. Not Kingo’s clothing, smelling of fire and hot earth. Things are more beautiful when they are gone. It is less pain to have already given up. But the letters don’t make things better when he leaves. Kingo’s red is still painful.

XXXII.  
The others who are connected with the darkness are all like him. They attach themselves like parasites to others. O’Ichi wanders without a lord, without a brother, without a husband. The Toyotomi is strong, he thinks, because their best soldiers are worthless without them. It doesn’t matter if one is smart or fast. Not as long as they cannot leave the army. My reason for living, they cry, clinging to their lord. He does not call them pathetic. His left hand trembles, fisted in Nobunaga-kou’s clothes. 

XXXIII.  
He doesn’t mean to be mysterious. “You’re always scheming,” someone tells him. He can’t disagree, but something still nags at him. “Be more open about your intentions,” Kichou tells him once, and then he understands. He doesn’t know his intentions. He doesn’t know his feelings. How can he hide them? He wants to find them for himself.

XXXIV.  
Teasing is the same thing as hurting, he tells himself. Sadistic. He turns the word over in his mind, feels pleasure from it. When he digs his nails into Nobunaga-kou’s back so hard that he draws blood. When he watches Nobunaga-kou in the infirmary, wounds proudly on display. The bruises on Nobunaga-kou’s scabbed-over lips. The bite marks on Nobunaga-kou’s collar. They are the same thing as Kingo-san’s worried face, the same thing as Kingo-san’s trembling little sobs as his fists beat gently against the floor. “Watch yourself next time,” he tells Nobunaga-kou with a smile, baring his teeth. “It’s alright; you’re so cute when you’re worried,” he tells Kingo, taking him in his arms.

XXXV.  
There is proof that he is evil. If O’Ichi loses her husband, often he will laugh when he first hears it. There is no regret here. It is a thing of beauty to see a life destroyed. If it wasn’t, then he would have died long ago, from the first time he felt that thing inside of him break. Often, when he sees her afterwards, he stops and touches her shoulder. “It’s alright,” he tells her, surprising himself with the lie. “He still watches over you.” Sadist, he says to himself. You feel nothing of or for her pain. What purpose does your little act even serve?

XXXVI.  
Sometimes he thinks that the old Nobunaga will return. In the future, he tells himself. Before things get really bad. “But,” he hears from somewhere within him, ignoring the sinking feeling in his chest. “You would wait forever even if you knew he would never return.”

XXXVII.  
It surprises him when he hears that Ranmaru and Katsuie do not resent him. “You always treated me kindly,” Katsuie sometimes says, after it all. “No,” he argues. “I could never bring myself to care.” He wishes he could read other people more easily. “That is your mind,” Katsuie says. “Your actions were always kind.”

XXXVIII.  
Kind, kind, kind. He doesn’t know what the word means. “You are the only one who was kind to me,” Kingo-san says. You have to be human to be kind, he thinks, but now he isn’t so sure.

XXXIX.  
Nobunaga-kou has never called him kind. “Bright” and “beautiful” when they were young, before they were broken. “Clumsy” and “careless” later, after he couldn’t fix himself. “Slow” and “stupid” near the end, when he started to work against him. “Worthless”, “useless”, “a burden”, “a liability”, “a dangerous gamble”. 

XXXX.  
For the longest time, he thought that he deserved Nobunaga. This is what you asked for! he told himself over and over again. This is your reward, this is your punishment. “Why didn’t you leave?” Katsuie asked him once. “Like I did?” Oh, he thinks. That was an option?

XXXXI.  
People try to tell him that he’s different from his lord. O’Ichi does not tremble around him. Katsuie always greets him, always remembers him fondly and warmly. Before he lost them, Kichou thanked him, clasped his hand in hers. Not for me, she had told him. She was pushing Ranmaru, barely awake, hand on his collar, knuckles so tight they were white. We need to escape, she told him. Mama, Ranmaru said, tiny head lolling against her leg. He has no father, Kichou said. He wasn’t the one who killed them. That, at least, he can accept. 

XXXXII.  
Where would he go? What would he do? Who would come looking for him? Who would mourn him? Who would gather him? Who would praise him? What matters, after? What exists, after? These questions used to be rhetorical. Now........................

XXXXIII.  
I want to go together. Don’t leave me here, alone. I will hold you as the flames swallow us both. They will not be able to separate our bones. 

XXXXIV.  
Go on without me. There are still things that I must do here. No, rather... Things that I can do again.


End file.
